Flip-Top Box
02/11/2007 06:38 p.m.
I started smoking again.

I think it's all pretty relative to my incessant, inexplicable need to destroy myself. To be self-destructive in some way, shape, or form on a fairly regular basis.

My biggest motive, though, would probably be the fact that my double chin is slowly creeping back into existance, and I feel the need to squash it. My mother brought this to my attention the other day. I can't gain more weight. I just can't. It's kind of fucked logic, really. Essentially, it's everything I'm adamently opposed to. Destroying yourself on the inside so you seem asthetically appeasing on the outside. I've always hated that. It's so foolish. But, I can live with the destruction of my lungs. Tar is much more welcome than fat. Carcinogens as opposed to pounds. I can't live with gaining more weight. I can't. I'll hate myself so much more. I'll destroy myself psychologically. Things will become far worse.


Whenever I get hungry between meals, Marlboros are my greatest cohorts.

It's the lesser of two evils, really.


That...and like I had said before, that constant urge for destruction. It's less severe than parting skin, and the burn reminds me I'm still alive. It calms me down, builds me up. Makes me feel good without leaving a scar. Mmmm.
I am listening to A Perfect Circle - 3 Libras